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maderrThis storyis not going quite the way it was in my head. Shall have to poke at it somewhere. For now, new Regency story. First eight pages or so, and at least half of them may yet get scrapped. we'll see.
So this was the lair of the dragon.
Certainly the sitting room was a trifle exotic, but it was in a simple, tasteful way. There was nothing overblown or garish or frightening about it. Indeed, it looked liked the parlor of a man who genuinely enjoyed the items displayed.
Or maybe the unholy hour at which he was awake was warping his thoughts.
Honestly, he was going to kill Henry himself. Young men were entirely too exhausting to be endured, especially at a quarter past three in the morning.
Leaving off his sulky thoughts, he gave himself over to studying an exquisite fan made of jade and silk, a delicate water color of lotuses painted upon it. Beautiful.
The door opened in the middle of his minute examination, and he looked up to see that while the lair was rather anticlimactic, the dragon himself was not.
He had long ago sworn off anything which did not require coin, having been burned too many times in that corner to trust any pleasure freely given, but he was not above idle admiration. Beauty was to be admired, in all its forms.
Haven Linwood, the notorious bastard son of the late Earl of Chelsea, was certainly living up to the rumors. Half-oriental, the rumors said, and had lived abroad until only a year or so ago – it showed. The eyes were definitely oriental, and positively stunning in a face that perfectly blended to wholly separate and distinct cultures. His size was entirely his father's – tall and broad, and quite fit, if the way his shirt and breeches clung to him were any indication. The hair, deep brown or black, was just touched with silver and in need of a trim. He had not even bothered to comb it, and to judge from his casual state of dress, he had not been expecting visitors.
Society had exploded with scandal when the dying Earl had claimed his bastard son and declared him heir. They were still gossiping about, likely for lack of anything better to talk about.
How the new Earl of Chelsea had managed to get tangled up in this affair, he did not know. It was none of his business, so he did not intend to find out.
Linwood looked at him with eyes the color of good whiskey. "You are the Viscount Knox?" His accent was almost perfect, but not quite. There was a…lilt to it, an almost sing-song quality, though not the sort of music to which Alexis was accustomed.
He smiled in reply. "Guilty as charged, I’m afraid. Alexis Mariemont, at your service, my lord. I do apologize for the ungodly hour at which I have disturbed you."
"Ungodly?" Linwood's mouth quirked in amusement. "I suppose that depends on which gods one follows."
Alexis laughed, surprised. "I prefer gods who bid me sleep at half past three in the morning."
"Then I suppose the hour is ungodly, indeed," Linwood replied. "What brings you here at this unholy hour, my lord?"
He quirked a brow. "I confess I am astonished you have to ask, my lord."
Linwood frowned, brows furrowing in confusion. "Well, I shall have to confess my own confusion. I am at a loss as to why you would be here. Has something transpired of which I am unaware?"
Alexis coughed to hide a laugh. "Indeed, my lord. I believe a self-proclaimed good friend of yours declared you his second after he was challenged to a duel by a young man who is a friend of the family."
"Otis," Linwood said with a groan. "No lad that young should be allowed to open his mouth unless given direct order."
"My sentiment exactly," Alexis agreed, laughing openly this time. "As we are the seconds in this little drama, I thought perhaps our cooler heads might prevail."
Linwood nodded. "Of course. Come, we can speak in my study. I was working upon translations when you called."
Turning, he led the way from the sitting room.
Giving the jade fan a last admiring glance, Alexis followed him from the room and down a couple of hallways to a room that was small and filled to bursting with books, loose manuscripts, and more of the exotic paraphernalia which had filled the sitting room.
Muttering apologies for the mess, Linwood cleared a chair of the books and papers filling it, then motioned Alexis to take it. "Would you care for a whiskey or brandy?"
Alexis shook his head. "I fear it would put me right to sleep, my lord, but I thank you."
Nodding, Linwood sat down behind his desk, absently raking hand through his hair.
He was, Alexis noted, remarkably unpolished. The late Earl had been the very glass of fashion, the very definition of propriety and manners. If the man had ever seen his study look as it did now, he would have suffered an apoplexy. Never mind the utter impropriety of greeting a stranger in his shirtsleeves.
It was a pleasant change to deal with someone who had as little use for social frippery as he, even if it must be at this wretched hour.
"So what has young Otis done now?" Linwood asked. "That lad gets into more scrapes in a day than I thought was possible. Even I was not so creative in my youth."
"This is his first season, is it not?"
Linwood frowned a moment. "Oh. Yes, I believe so." He shrugged. "I met him shortly after my arrival, and he was most helpful. I fear he has decided we are fast friends since. He has a temper on him, as all boys do at that age. You said something about a duel? I had not known him to be quite that hot-headed."
"Henry Young is, however. His family and my own are quite close, and I have been appointed to watch out for him during his first season. Unfortunately, I arrived late to the ball we were attending this evening – too late to prevent catastrophe. Henry challenged Otis to a duel, and I fear the situation only deteriorated from there. I am hoping we two can resolve this."
"By all means," Linwood said. "As apparently my friend has not seen fit to inform me I am his second." He shook his head and raked a hand through his hair again. "What is the reason for this hot-headed duel?"
Black, Alexis decided idly. He had thought it might be a deep brown, but it was definitely looking to be more of a true black.
"If you ask me," Alexis said dryly, "the underlying matter would be resolved if they had chosen a bed as their weapon of choice, but let them figure that out."
Linwood snorted with amusement, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms.
"The argument was over a supposed insult. To be honest, I'm not certain they remember who cast the original insult."
"I see," Linwood replied. "Well, then I shall pen my most sincere apologies on behalf of Otis, and offer them to you in person. That should settle matters adequately, hmm?"
"Quite," Alexis said, reaching into his coat and extending a sealed envelope. "I do of course extend the same on behalf of Henry. I am glad we could come to a more peaceful resolution."
Linwood accepted the envelope, then shuffled things around on his desk until he had clear space to work, and quickly penned and sealed a letter of his own. He sealed the wax with the ring on his finger – a coiling dragon, Alexis saw as he accepted it. Had the seal given rise to the name, or the name to the seal?
"I do hope this resolves matter," Linwood said, rising. "I am sorry you had to go to such my trouble, my lord."
Alexis shrugged. "Henry is a good boy, and Otis too, from what I have seen of him. They are young, is all. That is why we are watching over them, is it not?"
"Of course," Linwood said, rising. "I am certain you would like to find your bed, my lord, so I shall not keep you longer."
Nodding, Alexis rose as well. He paused briefly at the door to bow his head politely. "Good night."
"Sleep well," Linwood replied, and then the door was closed.
Yawning, Alexis climbed into his waiting carriage and bid it take him to Henry's home, so he could finally put the entire affair to an end.
*~*~*
"Honestly, Otis, you are not happy unless you are getting into scrapes."
Otis winced. "I am sorry, Haven."
Haven grunted, and clapped him briefly on the shoulder. "Simply learn to think before you speak. Also learn to tell me when I am to be your second, because it was deuced awkward to have the Viscount show up and I had not a clue as to why."
"I really am sorry," Otis said. "I didn't know he'd do that. I did not think to bother you at all; I just thought it would at least sound better if I declared a second."
"No matter, the affair is over."
Otis scowled. "So long as that ruddy bastard stays away from me, it is."
"Indeed," Haven replied, thinking back to what the Viscount Knox had said about the two really just being caught up in young lust. "Why are you so angry with him?"
"He's a bastard," Otis repeated, looking at Haven as though that should make perfect since.
Hiding a smile, Haven nodded. "Of course. What are you up to the rest of the day, my trouble-making friend?"
"I've nothing until the Ford soiree tonight. Are you attending? It's supposed to be a grand fete."
"No," Haven replied, repressing a shudder. He was barely able to behave properly throughout the day, never mind wading through the treacherous waters of a soiree.
Otis glared at a rosebush. "Lord Bastard will be there, and probably with his damnable Viscount nearby. If not for him—"
"You would likely be dead or locked in your bedchambers until it was time to retire to the country," Haven interrupted, trying to ignore the way part of him had latched onto the bit about the Viscount Knox attending.
Honestly, for all the rumors he had heard about the man, and the stormy figure he cut at a distance – he was rather more like a light summer shower than a thunderstorm. Perhaps it had only been the hour, for the man had seemed at least half asleep. Beautiful, despite that. He had only ever seen the Viscount at a distance. Their paths had never crossed. Up close, he was all gold hair and dark blue eyes and sun-touched skin, a lean, long body that moved with the sort of grace Haven tended to associate with dancers and other such performers.
Even now he felt a perfect fool. What a grand impression that had been – half-undressed, unkempt from being bent over his desk at least half the night, and completely clueless as to the fact he had been declared a second in some hot-headed duel.
He was used to making poor impressions, for his impressive education was still no match for the ease of those naturally born to this life. It had been the nastiest shock of his life to be summoned, at the age of thirty four, to travel halfway around the world to finally be accepted by a father who had only begrudgingly seen he was given adequate funds upon which to survive.
Now here he was, barely tolerated in society, and he had erred yet again.
It was unfortunate, for the Viscount had been polite, even congenial. When Haven had stepped into the sitting room to greet the Viscount, he'd actually seemed to be doing more than simply gawking at the items of Haven's homeland.
Nor had he given any sign the study had offended him, though Haven knew it must have. The place was a perfect wreck, but he never seemed to get it to the point where he trusted anyone to clean it properly. There was simply too much the damned servants might break.
He raked a hand through his hair, stifling a sigh. A wreck it might be, but if he were there, he would not be here, and that was infinitely preferable.
Still, he wished he had made a better impression. For just a moment, last night, it had almost seemed as though he'd found someone who might be a genuine friend.
"Haven!"
"What?" He jerked, then blinked at Otis. "I am sorry, my thoughts took me."
"I noticed," Otis said. "You looked unhappy. Is someone giving you trouble again? You should just call them out."
Haven laughed and shook his head. "Very few problems are best resolved through violence. No, no one has troubled me." He hesitated, then gave an inward sigh and let the impulse have its way. "I was only thinking that the Viscount was nothing at all like the impression I had been given."
Otis laughed. "Where do you think that bastard Young gets it? All I hear from him is Viscount this, and Lord Mariemont that – honestly, it's pathetic the way he admires."
"You sound jealous," Haven teased. "Jealous of Young, or jealous of the Viscount?"
"You are not amusing," Otis said, glaring. "I am not jealous of anyone. It's simply annoying."
"Mm," Haven said, hiding a smile.
"Anyway," Otis said pointedly, sipping at the coffee he had until then neglected. "They say it's wise never to let your guard down around him. He's all sunshine one minute, and thunder and lightning the next. He fought a number of duels back in the day. It's said he was nearly clapped in irons for the last one, and that was the only reason he left off dueling finally. A strong family, though, and he is fast friends with Lord Bartholomew Ford and the Marquis Lovett. No one dares cross him."
Haven barely stifled a groan. Wonderful. He knew he should have bothered to pay more attention to the nonsense people spewed when he was about. He would make a fool of himself in front of such a powerful man.
He only hoped the Viscount was not the sort to use it to make a mockery of him. He liked to think not, for hadn't the Viscount gone to an awful lot of trouble to keep two hot headed young men from doing something stupid?
Stifling a sigh, he motioned a server for another coffee. Strong and dark, but not nearly as good as what he was accustomed to drinking back in his homeland. He wondered sometimes why he did not simply say to hell with it, and return to lands that were more familiar. Lands where he was not rejected out of hand for his strangeness.
At thirty five, he should be well past clinging to stupid, foolish dreams.
Should be, but obviously was not.
"You're looking gloomy again," Otis said, breaking into his thoughts. He frowned, obviously miserable. "I'm sorry, did I really cause you so much trouble with the Viscount? I did not mean to, I swear it, Haven."
"Not at all," Haven replied, summoning a reassuring smile.
Otis didn't look convinced. "Well, you shouldn't worry upon it. He can be quite dangerous, but I don't think he's lost his temper in a long time. Since he was nearly clapped in irons, I think, and that was years ago." He tapped his chin thoughtfully, one hand idly tracing the rim of his coffee cup. "A love affair, I believe, was the cause."
"Isn't it always?" Haven asked dryly. "Enough. I should know better than to listen to gossip. If I was surprised by him, then it serves me right for forming unfounded expectations."
They subsided into silence, Otis quite happy to attend the treats which had accompanied their coffee.
Haven let his thoughts wander, until he noticed the way Otis kept looking at him. He attempted to ignore it, but at last gave a sigh of defeat. "Out with it, lad."
Otis ducked his head guiltily. "Um, I was only wondering…are you certain you won't attend the soiree?"
"Why?" Haven asked cautiously. "You didn't do something else involving me without telling me, did you?"
"No…" Otis said. "It's only that – well – I thought you might like to come." He looked down at his coffee, frowning deeply.
Haven frowned in his own turn. "What have you done now?"
"Nothing!" Otis said, head jerking up. "I swear it. Only – well – " He sighed. "I thought it might be nice if you came. The Viscount is showing stupid Young around, and Redbank is the Duke Piedmont's brother…"
Haven blinked, startled for a moment into silence. "Haven't you a brother or a cousin to run you about, Otis? Come to that, I cannot see that they would approve of you hanging around with the Dragon." He tried not to let the bitterness slip out, but sensed it had anyway.
Otis shrugged. "I don't have any brothers, only sisters, and they're all married and busy with their own children."
That made no sense – if they had husbands, those husbands should be more than happy to show around a brother in law. At the very least, they should be aware of their obligations.
"Anyway," Otis continued. "I've told everyone we're friends, but no one ever believes me."
"Well, they're all fools anyway," Haven said. "I cannot think it will do you any good, Otis, but I will attend your soiree if you like. Only promise me no more of this dueling nonsense, all right?"
Otis nodded, nearly bursting out of his seat with excitement. "I promise, Haven."
"Then I will meet you there…what time?"
"Ten o'clock, or thereabouts. It's poor form to be punctual."
What, Haven wondered, was the point in setting a specific time if no one intended for that time to heeded? He would never understand all these little rules. It gave him a headache.
"Very well, then," he said, wondering what in the hell he thought he was doing. "Ten o'clock, or thereabouts. Try to stay out of trouble until I arrive." Leaving coin for the coffee, he took his leave.
Despite himself, he found he was smiling as he left.
Otis was more like a ward than a friend, but it was nice that someone was not completely repulsed by him.
Thinking that, however, reminded him of the spectacle he had made of himself last night, before the Viscount. It had seemed so very much, for a single wonderful moment, that he might have found someone he could someday call friend.
Anything more, he did not even dare think upon. He could not even make friends, what chance had he of a lover here?
But a friend, a real friend, would have been nice. Thinking back to his appearance, and his study, and his no doubt deplorable manners…next to the Viscount, who had looked perfect and stunning, and was so calm and polite and good humored about everything…
Well, naturally he would botch it right from the start.
Heaving another sigh, he made his way through the crowded streets back to his home, to see if he actually owned the sorts of clothes one needed for a soiree.
Seconds
So this was the lair of the dragon.
Certainly the sitting room was a trifle exotic, but it was in a simple, tasteful way. There was nothing overblown or garish or frightening about it. Indeed, it looked liked the parlor of a man who genuinely enjoyed the items displayed.
Or maybe the unholy hour at which he was awake was warping his thoughts.
Honestly, he was going to kill Henry himself. Young men were entirely too exhausting to be endured, especially at a quarter past three in the morning.
Leaving off his sulky thoughts, he gave himself over to studying an exquisite fan made of jade and silk, a delicate water color of lotuses painted upon it. Beautiful.
The door opened in the middle of his minute examination, and he looked up to see that while the lair was rather anticlimactic, the dragon himself was not.
He had long ago sworn off anything which did not require coin, having been burned too many times in that corner to trust any pleasure freely given, but he was not above idle admiration. Beauty was to be admired, in all its forms.
Haven Linwood, the notorious bastard son of the late Earl of Chelsea, was certainly living up to the rumors. Half-oriental, the rumors said, and had lived abroad until only a year or so ago – it showed. The eyes were definitely oriental, and positively stunning in a face that perfectly blended to wholly separate and distinct cultures. His size was entirely his father's – tall and broad, and quite fit, if the way his shirt and breeches clung to him were any indication. The hair, deep brown or black, was just touched with silver and in need of a trim. He had not even bothered to comb it, and to judge from his casual state of dress, he had not been expecting visitors.
Society had exploded with scandal when the dying Earl had claimed his bastard son and declared him heir. They were still gossiping about, likely for lack of anything better to talk about.
How the new Earl of Chelsea had managed to get tangled up in this affair, he did not know. It was none of his business, so he did not intend to find out.
Linwood looked at him with eyes the color of good whiskey. "You are the Viscount Knox?" His accent was almost perfect, but not quite. There was a…lilt to it, an almost sing-song quality, though not the sort of music to which Alexis was accustomed.
He smiled in reply. "Guilty as charged, I’m afraid. Alexis Mariemont, at your service, my lord. I do apologize for the ungodly hour at which I have disturbed you."
"Ungodly?" Linwood's mouth quirked in amusement. "I suppose that depends on which gods one follows."
Alexis laughed, surprised. "I prefer gods who bid me sleep at half past three in the morning."
"Then I suppose the hour is ungodly, indeed," Linwood replied. "What brings you here at this unholy hour, my lord?"
He quirked a brow. "I confess I am astonished you have to ask, my lord."
Linwood frowned, brows furrowing in confusion. "Well, I shall have to confess my own confusion. I am at a loss as to why you would be here. Has something transpired of which I am unaware?"
Alexis coughed to hide a laugh. "Indeed, my lord. I believe a self-proclaimed good friend of yours declared you his second after he was challenged to a duel by a young man who is a friend of the family."
"Otis," Linwood said with a groan. "No lad that young should be allowed to open his mouth unless given direct order."
"My sentiment exactly," Alexis agreed, laughing openly this time. "As we are the seconds in this little drama, I thought perhaps our cooler heads might prevail."
Linwood nodded. "Of course. Come, we can speak in my study. I was working upon translations when you called."
Turning, he led the way from the sitting room.
Giving the jade fan a last admiring glance, Alexis followed him from the room and down a couple of hallways to a room that was small and filled to bursting with books, loose manuscripts, and more of the exotic paraphernalia which had filled the sitting room.
Muttering apologies for the mess, Linwood cleared a chair of the books and papers filling it, then motioned Alexis to take it. "Would you care for a whiskey or brandy?"
Alexis shook his head. "I fear it would put me right to sleep, my lord, but I thank you."
Nodding, Linwood sat down behind his desk, absently raking hand through his hair.
He was, Alexis noted, remarkably unpolished. The late Earl had been the very glass of fashion, the very definition of propriety and manners. If the man had ever seen his study look as it did now, he would have suffered an apoplexy. Never mind the utter impropriety of greeting a stranger in his shirtsleeves.
It was a pleasant change to deal with someone who had as little use for social frippery as he, even if it must be at this wretched hour.
"So what has young Otis done now?" Linwood asked. "That lad gets into more scrapes in a day than I thought was possible. Even I was not so creative in my youth."
"This is his first season, is it not?"
Linwood frowned a moment. "Oh. Yes, I believe so." He shrugged. "I met him shortly after my arrival, and he was most helpful. I fear he has decided we are fast friends since. He has a temper on him, as all boys do at that age. You said something about a duel? I had not known him to be quite that hot-headed."
"Henry Young is, however. His family and my own are quite close, and I have been appointed to watch out for him during his first season. Unfortunately, I arrived late to the ball we were attending this evening – too late to prevent catastrophe. Henry challenged Otis to a duel, and I fear the situation only deteriorated from there. I am hoping we two can resolve this."
"By all means," Linwood said. "As apparently my friend has not seen fit to inform me I am his second." He shook his head and raked a hand through his hair again. "What is the reason for this hot-headed duel?"
Black, Alexis decided idly. He had thought it might be a deep brown, but it was definitely looking to be more of a true black.
"If you ask me," Alexis said dryly, "the underlying matter would be resolved if they had chosen a bed as their weapon of choice, but let them figure that out."
Linwood snorted with amusement, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms.
"The argument was over a supposed insult. To be honest, I'm not certain they remember who cast the original insult."
"I see," Linwood replied. "Well, then I shall pen my most sincere apologies on behalf of Otis, and offer them to you in person. That should settle matters adequately, hmm?"
"Quite," Alexis said, reaching into his coat and extending a sealed envelope. "I do of course extend the same on behalf of Henry. I am glad we could come to a more peaceful resolution."
Linwood accepted the envelope, then shuffled things around on his desk until he had clear space to work, and quickly penned and sealed a letter of his own. He sealed the wax with the ring on his finger – a coiling dragon, Alexis saw as he accepted it. Had the seal given rise to the name, or the name to the seal?
"I do hope this resolves matter," Linwood said, rising. "I am sorry you had to go to such my trouble, my lord."
Alexis shrugged. "Henry is a good boy, and Otis too, from what I have seen of him. They are young, is all. That is why we are watching over them, is it not?"
"Of course," Linwood said, rising. "I am certain you would like to find your bed, my lord, so I shall not keep you longer."
Nodding, Alexis rose as well. He paused briefly at the door to bow his head politely. "Good night."
"Sleep well," Linwood replied, and then the door was closed.
Yawning, Alexis climbed into his waiting carriage and bid it take him to Henry's home, so he could finally put the entire affair to an end.
*~*~*
"Honestly, Otis, you are not happy unless you are getting into scrapes."
Otis winced. "I am sorry, Haven."
Haven grunted, and clapped him briefly on the shoulder. "Simply learn to think before you speak. Also learn to tell me when I am to be your second, because it was deuced awkward to have the Viscount show up and I had not a clue as to why."
"I really am sorry," Otis said. "I didn't know he'd do that. I did not think to bother you at all; I just thought it would at least sound better if I declared a second."
"No matter, the affair is over."
Otis scowled. "So long as that ruddy bastard stays away from me, it is."
"Indeed," Haven replied, thinking back to what the Viscount Knox had said about the two really just being caught up in young lust. "Why are you so angry with him?"
"He's a bastard," Otis repeated, looking at Haven as though that should make perfect since.
Hiding a smile, Haven nodded. "Of course. What are you up to the rest of the day, my trouble-making friend?"
"I've nothing until the Ford soiree tonight. Are you attending? It's supposed to be a grand fete."
"No," Haven replied, repressing a shudder. He was barely able to behave properly throughout the day, never mind wading through the treacherous waters of a soiree.
Otis glared at a rosebush. "Lord Bastard will be there, and probably with his damnable Viscount nearby. If not for him—"
"You would likely be dead or locked in your bedchambers until it was time to retire to the country," Haven interrupted, trying to ignore the way part of him had latched onto the bit about the Viscount Knox attending.
Honestly, for all the rumors he had heard about the man, and the stormy figure he cut at a distance – he was rather more like a light summer shower than a thunderstorm. Perhaps it had only been the hour, for the man had seemed at least half asleep. Beautiful, despite that. He had only ever seen the Viscount at a distance. Their paths had never crossed. Up close, he was all gold hair and dark blue eyes and sun-touched skin, a lean, long body that moved with the sort of grace Haven tended to associate with dancers and other such performers.
Even now he felt a perfect fool. What a grand impression that had been – half-undressed, unkempt from being bent over his desk at least half the night, and completely clueless as to the fact he had been declared a second in some hot-headed duel.
He was used to making poor impressions, for his impressive education was still no match for the ease of those naturally born to this life. It had been the nastiest shock of his life to be summoned, at the age of thirty four, to travel halfway around the world to finally be accepted by a father who had only begrudgingly seen he was given adequate funds upon which to survive.
Now here he was, barely tolerated in society, and he had erred yet again.
It was unfortunate, for the Viscount had been polite, even congenial. When Haven had stepped into the sitting room to greet the Viscount, he'd actually seemed to be doing more than simply gawking at the items of Haven's homeland.
Nor had he given any sign the study had offended him, though Haven knew it must have. The place was a perfect wreck, but he never seemed to get it to the point where he trusted anyone to clean it properly. There was simply too much the damned servants might break.
He raked a hand through his hair, stifling a sigh. A wreck it might be, but if he were there, he would not be here, and that was infinitely preferable.
Still, he wished he had made a better impression. For just a moment, last night, it had almost seemed as though he'd found someone who might be a genuine friend.
"Haven!"
"What?" He jerked, then blinked at Otis. "I am sorry, my thoughts took me."
"I noticed," Otis said. "You looked unhappy. Is someone giving you trouble again? You should just call them out."
Haven laughed and shook his head. "Very few problems are best resolved through violence. No, no one has troubled me." He hesitated, then gave an inward sigh and let the impulse have its way. "I was only thinking that the Viscount was nothing at all like the impression I had been given."
Otis laughed. "Where do you think that bastard Young gets it? All I hear from him is Viscount this, and Lord Mariemont that – honestly, it's pathetic the way he admires."
"You sound jealous," Haven teased. "Jealous of Young, or jealous of the Viscount?"
"You are not amusing," Otis said, glaring. "I am not jealous of anyone. It's simply annoying."
"Mm," Haven said, hiding a smile.
"Anyway," Otis said pointedly, sipping at the coffee he had until then neglected. "They say it's wise never to let your guard down around him. He's all sunshine one minute, and thunder and lightning the next. He fought a number of duels back in the day. It's said he was nearly clapped in irons for the last one, and that was the only reason he left off dueling finally. A strong family, though, and he is fast friends with Lord Bartholomew Ford and the Marquis Lovett. No one dares cross him."
Haven barely stifled a groan. Wonderful. He knew he should have bothered to pay more attention to the nonsense people spewed when he was about. He would make a fool of himself in front of such a powerful man.
He only hoped the Viscount was not the sort to use it to make a mockery of him. He liked to think not, for hadn't the Viscount gone to an awful lot of trouble to keep two hot headed young men from doing something stupid?
Stifling a sigh, he motioned a server for another coffee. Strong and dark, but not nearly as good as what he was accustomed to drinking back in his homeland. He wondered sometimes why he did not simply say to hell with it, and return to lands that were more familiar. Lands where he was not rejected out of hand for his strangeness.
At thirty five, he should be well past clinging to stupid, foolish dreams.
Should be, but obviously was not.
"You're looking gloomy again," Otis said, breaking into his thoughts. He frowned, obviously miserable. "I'm sorry, did I really cause you so much trouble with the Viscount? I did not mean to, I swear it, Haven."
"Not at all," Haven replied, summoning a reassuring smile.
Otis didn't look convinced. "Well, you shouldn't worry upon it. He can be quite dangerous, but I don't think he's lost his temper in a long time. Since he was nearly clapped in irons, I think, and that was years ago." He tapped his chin thoughtfully, one hand idly tracing the rim of his coffee cup. "A love affair, I believe, was the cause."
"Isn't it always?" Haven asked dryly. "Enough. I should know better than to listen to gossip. If I was surprised by him, then it serves me right for forming unfounded expectations."
They subsided into silence, Otis quite happy to attend the treats which had accompanied their coffee.
Haven let his thoughts wander, until he noticed the way Otis kept looking at him. He attempted to ignore it, but at last gave a sigh of defeat. "Out with it, lad."
Otis ducked his head guiltily. "Um, I was only wondering…are you certain you won't attend the soiree?"
"Why?" Haven asked cautiously. "You didn't do something else involving me without telling me, did you?"
"No…" Otis said. "It's only that – well – I thought you might like to come." He looked down at his coffee, frowning deeply.
Haven frowned in his own turn. "What have you done now?"
"Nothing!" Otis said, head jerking up. "I swear it. Only – well – " He sighed. "I thought it might be nice if you came. The Viscount is showing stupid Young around, and Redbank is the Duke Piedmont's brother…"
Haven blinked, startled for a moment into silence. "Haven't you a brother or a cousin to run you about, Otis? Come to that, I cannot see that they would approve of you hanging around with the Dragon." He tried not to let the bitterness slip out, but sensed it had anyway.
Otis shrugged. "I don't have any brothers, only sisters, and they're all married and busy with their own children."
That made no sense – if they had husbands, those husbands should be more than happy to show around a brother in law. At the very least, they should be aware of their obligations.
"Anyway," Otis continued. "I've told everyone we're friends, but no one ever believes me."
"Well, they're all fools anyway," Haven said. "I cannot think it will do you any good, Otis, but I will attend your soiree if you like. Only promise me no more of this dueling nonsense, all right?"
Otis nodded, nearly bursting out of his seat with excitement. "I promise, Haven."
"Then I will meet you there…what time?"
"Ten o'clock, or thereabouts. It's poor form to be punctual."
What, Haven wondered, was the point in setting a specific time if no one intended for that time to heeded? He would never understand all these little rules. It gave him a headache.
"Very well, then," he said, wondering what in the hell he thought he was doing. "Ten o'clock, or thereabouts. Try to stay out of trouble until I arrive." Leaving coin for the coffee, he took his leave.
Despite himself, he found he was smiling as he left.
Otis was more like a ward than a friend, but it was nice that someone was not completely repulsed by him.
Thinking that, however, reminded him of the spectacle he had made of himself last night, before the Viscount. It had seemed so very much, for a single wonderful moment, that he might have found someone he could someday call friend.
Anything more, he did not even dare think upon. He could not even make friends, what chance had he of a lover here?
But a friend, a real friend, would have been nice. Thinking back to his appearance, and his study, and his no doubt deplorable manners…next to the Viscount, who had looked perfect and stunning, and was so calm and polite and good humored about everything…
Well, naturally he would botch it right from the start.
Heaving another sigh, he made his way through the crowded streets back to his home, to see if he actually owned the sorts of clothes one needed for a soiree.
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Date: 2008-07-07 01:36 am (UTC)I'm hoping it'll co-operate with you so you can write more soon. (Cause REGENCY!!! *SQUEE*)
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Date: 2008-07-07 01:49 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-07 02:11 am (UTC)Okay, so, don't expect me to type much more than that. Or maybe you do! Maybe you're way too demanding! Maybe you are, like, totally harshing my buzz.
Naaaaah, maybe I'm just drunkish.
You know, times like these, when I have, um, imbbibed, and it takes me like twnety minutes to correct a simple post - there are spelling mistakes here! the red underline in my text box tells me I have made errors! fuck 'em - anyway, those are the times I wish I lived closer to awesome people like you so that we could go out and par-tay. But then I realize that I've said awesome, like, twice already.
Okay, this is good. For a minute I was confused and I was like "Is he really a dragon?" and I was sort of excited about a Victorian dragon. Like a dragon with a cravat. (For the record, a cravat is actually my kryptonite.) And he smokes snuff and goes to gentleman's clubs and smokes snuff.
I'm gonna stop now, because I bet I'm embarrassing myself. Woohoo! La la laaaaaaa.
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Date: 2008-07-07 09:22 am (UTC)*dies giggling*
I think it's probably best for the world that we do not live closer. Oh, the beautiful chaos.
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Date: 2008-07-07 02:48 am (UTC)I like the premise. And I like how very opposite the two sides are, depending on who's the focus. I think this one is starting out wonderfully, and I wonder how it was different in your head.
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Date: 2008-07-07 03:16 am (UTC)Yes, for one must dress for these kinds of occaisions.
I liked this start. It's more of the Georgette Heyer style, but I might be reading that into it. *smile* I hope that the muses are moved to produce more in this ilk.
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Date: 2008-07-07 03:26 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-07 03:37 am (UTC)Sparkly new story! M, you continually amaze me.
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Date: 2008-07-07 03:43 am (UTC)Wow, exclamation point abuse. Eh, it totally deserves it. Can't wait to see more!!!!
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Date: 2008-07-07 04:43 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-07 08:24 am (UTC)I love it already! More, please!
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Date: 2008-07-07 09:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-07 09:32 am (UTC)I never did compliment your drabble, my dear. It was lovely. I read it over and over ^__^
And I'm not telling you a damn thing, re: your email.
I think the most beautiful person I ever knew was a Korean chick I grew up with. Her name was Ariana Kelly. Drop dead gorgeous, I so wish I knew what she was up to these days.
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Date: 2008-07-07 10:17 am (UTC)D: You do realise this means I will have to play in your sandbox?
I know this girl, and she's half indian and half chinese, and she ends up looking Brazilian, and she just lovely, and exotic, and mind numbingly gorgeous. Some people get all the luck. ;-P
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Date: 2008-07-07 12:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-07 03:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-07 06:03 pm (UTC)Decided to make myself known, after, what, two years? :P I've been kind of shy, because english is my second language, so excuse me any mistakes.
Just wanted to say how much I love your stories. I'll sometimes drop a comment or two, if it doesn't bother you. :) Hope you don't mind if I add you to friends. If you do, just say so. :D
I love Regency and this one looks promising. Can't wait for more. :D
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Date: 2008-07-07 06:09 pm (UTC)OT entirely, but I was looking at your memories, and there's this start to a story where a renegade scribe is paired up with a dragon who's full of scars and kind of not-respected anymore... Was that the one with Lord Chamber Pot? Hum, I'm not sure. Anyways, do you think there might be a chance at closure with that one? (I'm asking because this just reminded me of it, heh.)
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Date: 2008-07-07 06:15 pm (UTC)"I do hope this resolves matter," Linwood said, rising. "I am sorry you had to go to such my trouble, my lord."
Alexis shrugged. "Henry is a good boy, and Otis too, from what I have seen of him. They are young, is all. That is why we are watching over them, is it not?"
"Of course," Linwood said, rising.
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Date: 2008-07-07 09:52 pm (UTC)dude, everything posted is just a rough draft. I'll let my betas tackle all that nonsense once I hand it over. But thanks.
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Date: 2008-07-09 07:33 am (UTC)xD
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Date: 2008-07-09 09:10 am (UTC)No, you're fine. I was just trying to save you the trouble.
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Date: 2008-07-07 10:16 pm (UTC)(If you can't tell, this is one of my favorite of your 'verses)
And I don't care if it's a rough draft, because it has Oriental things/people in it!! <33333333333333333333333333333333
(If you can't tell, I love the Orient.)
MORE PLEASE SOON!!